


Pillars of Salt (Lost in the Fire)

by Isis_McGee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU of "Taxi Driver", AU of 8.19, Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s08e19 Taxi Driver, Gen, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth, bastardization of ancient myths, demon!Jessica, mention of wincest, verbal abuse of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis_McGee/pseuds/Isis_McGee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby's not the innocent soul Sam rescues from Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillars of Salt (Lost in the Fire)

**Author's Note:**

> So I had to bastardize the myth a little bit and I had to toy with the mythology on the show, but I hope you can ignore that a little.

It had been explained to him: don’t look back. “You heard of Orpheus and Eurydice? It’s like that, except with less sodium. Maybe. You never know with the sense of humor of the higher ups,” he’d been told. Sam Winchester thought he had the willpower to do that. To go into Hell, tell Bobby the situation and then trust him to follow the younger, still living man out of the pit. Sam had always been the one to trust other people, at least more than his brother did; Dean wouldn’t last a second trusting that someone would follow him‒whether that said more about what Dean thought of other people or of himself remained to be seen. But Sam understood what he could and couldn’t do. It wasn’t exactly like the myth; he couldn’t look back, couldn’t acknowledge the soul following him out of hell but that soul could talk to him, could reassure him that it was there. The bad thing was, he wasn’t allowed to explain that explicitly to Bobby and Sam wasn’t sure his faux-father would take the risk being so well versed in mythology as he was.  Sam would just have to think of a way to indicate this fact. He could picture finding Bobby and telling him how good it was to hear his voice and hoping he’d get the hint; at least, that was all he had at the moment.

Hell wasn’t what he had pictured. His time in the cage was mostly a blur of the worst pain ever to be inflicted upon a human so the incredibly cliché wrought-iron gate he was standing in front of once the reaper left him almost made him laugh. He half expected to see _Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate_ scrawled atop of the black structure, but instead it was a series of scratches that could have been a language or “Chicken scratch to scare the locals. Nice,” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s Enochian, idjit. Dante got it right, just the wrong language.” Sam spun around so quickly at the voice he thought he might pull a muscle in his neck.

“Bobby,” he started and the hatted man engulfed him in a hug before he could continue.

“It’s good to see you too, boy,” he said into Sam’s shoulder. It was the strangest hug Sam had ever felt; half material, half like hugging smoke, he pulled back to ask about it. Before he could, Bobby tried to explain, “I’m not really here, Sam.”

“What? You mean, you’re not really right here? That makes sense; it’d be too easy if you were right outside the gates of Hell.”

“No, I’m not really in Hell. The reaper you rode down here lied to you. Crowley may be a sonuvabitch but he ain’t stupid. You gutted his puppy and he figured it wouldn’t be long before you had to come down here. He doesn’t know what for, but he was betting on it. Planted the rumor that I was down here to make sure you’d come. Seemed believable that he’d keep me from Heaven.”

“Then, Bobby, how are you, well, here?”

“Day-pass. I’ve been checkin in on you and your dumbass brother from time to time. Overheard the plan and asked a favor.”

“From who?”

“Who d’you think, idjit? From the big man. God’s still around if you ask for him nicely. You thought you were gonna come down here and waltz through Hell to find me without a guide? You were always the smart one, Sam; what happened?”

“You’re a lot bitchier than Virgil was,” he breathed out. Of course Bobby heard him and gave him a glare and a head shake.

“Virgil had less of a moron to work with. Now that you’re not looking for me, do you even have any idea how you’re gonna find an innocent soul in Hell?”

Sam tried to come up with an answer but honestly, he hadn’t planned for Bobby not to be the one he rescued. He also hadn’t particularly planned for the reaper to drop him off like a kid at twisted soccer camp. When he didn’t answer, Bobby shook his head.

“How the hell are you two managing without me?” he meant it half as a joke, but Sam replied before Bobby could continue.

“It’s been really hard, Bobby.” One corner of Bobby’s mouth lifted a little and he put his hand on Sam’s shoulder in thanks. “And I have no idea how I’m supposed to find an innocent down here if I don’t know who I’m looking for.”

“Then it’s a damn good thing I’m here, idinit?”

“You’ve got a name for me?”

“Not exactly. A heavenly soul can tell an innocent. Or at least tell when someone doesn’t really belong in hell,” Bobby shrugged. Sam just looked at him for a moment.

“So that means we’re just going to wander around hell until somebody pops out to you? That could take way more than 24 hours, Bobby.”

“You got a better idea? It’s not like we’re gonna go sight-seeing, Sam. We’ll move as fast as we can. Which means we gotta stop yammering and get to walking.” With that, Bobby moved toward the gate. “You’ve gotta push it open. Iron still repels spirits, even down here.”

It swung open noiselessly when Sam pushed lightly and stepped through. Bobby followed him and when they were both safely through, it slammed shut. The scenery suddenly changed and no longer was Sam struck by the stereotypical nature; instead of fire and brimstone and darkness, it was a bright, sunshiney clearing in a forest that they’d wandered into. It looked familiar to Sam, but he didn’t know why.

“Bobby, what the hell is this? I didn’t expect the underworld to be so bright.”

“If heaven’s your best memories…” Bobby trailed off. Sam turned to look at him and saw the impala parked at the edge of the clearing. The smell of death lingered and even the pine couldn’t hide it. He hated that these memories were going to be so incredibly vivid. He glanced around for Dean when it hit him. There was a shovel in his hands and a light weight around his neck. The amulet. He’d taken it off Dean’s body before he’d even lifted the corpse out of that house in Indiana because he didn’t want it to be cold when he put it on. Dean’s body heat had always kept it warm and it might have been the last of his brother’s warmth Sam ever felt.

“No, we gotta move, I’m not reliving this, Bobby.” He tried to throw the shovel down but it was stuck in his hands. He took a step forward and then another until he was running out of the clearing and Bobby was right beside him the whole way. As he was running he realized he was going through other memories; he recognized the mystery spot where he watched Dean die the first time, the cabin Azazel had possessed their dad in, he saw a funeral pyre twice. When he finally stopped it was on an asphalt road in the dark.

“Sam, you got a long way to go before you’re not reliving any of your worst memories, boy. The psychological pain comes before the physical. At least down here. Way to make a soul hate itself before it’s put on the rack, I guess. Easier to get ‘em to turn to torturin’ others if they hate what life did to ‘em.”

“Are we gonna find an innocent soul in my memories? No one has even really been in them yet.” Sam knows that no one will be in this one either; at least, there won’t be an innocent soul. He wonders about the metaphysical implications of a memory being both in someone’s heaven and their hell, because he remembers walking away from John and Dean on this road. Remembers how John’s voice echoed in his head and how he couldn’t get his big brother’s face from his mind. He would have turned around if he hadn’t kept hearing his father’s warning to not come back if he left. His mind flashed unbidden to a hotel room with Dean’s face bloodied and on the floor telling him nearly the same thing. With the thought, the scenery changed to that honeymoon suite. So far he’d felt like he’d been running through every moment he’d ever let Dean down and in rapid succession, it did make Sam hate himself a little.

“Probably not, especially not when the person involved in them is still alive,” Bobby replied as something began to glimmer in the middle of the floor. The image of a battered Dean was materializing and Sam really didn’t want to hear it. Before the image cleared up he moved on; instead of Dean, he heard the screams of the possessed nurse he’d bled dry the next day and he didn’t stop to see her pained face again. He began to run again, seeing vaguely familiar school hallways, uniformly nondescript hospital rooms, darkened forest after darkened forest, lake fronts, and even though  he was clearly in shape, his lungs were starting to burn. He had to stop. He didn’t know how long he was supposed to run through the worst experiences of his life; how long would it be until he saw other people? He stopped and turned towards Bobby to ask that question and wondered where he was for a moment. Before he opened his mouth, a smell hit him and he was too confused: why would he be smelling chocolate chip cookies in Hell? It took less than a second for him to remember and the air still remaining in his lungs left.

He now recognized the headboard he and Jess had picked out together when they were planning on moving into the apartment. The memory was worse now, knowing what he did. Between the demon blood and Brady’s confirmation he knew it was-

“Your fault?” a voice said. For a second he thought it was Bobby, but the man wouldn’t be so cruel. And the voice was too feminine.

“Hi, Sam. Remember me?” and Sam wished with his whole heart that he didn’t in that moment, because if he were to go to hell again this would be the first memory he encountered. Standing there, in the same chemise she’d worn that night splashed with blood across the middle, was Jess, and her eyes flashed black when she smiled.

“Jess… no.” Sam’s voice caught in his throat. He would have wandered through hell for the rest of time without meeting another soul to accomplish this second trial if he wouldn’t have had to see that.

“’Fraid so, honey. It’s been a long time. I’ve been here, a long, long time.” Before she could go on, Bobby was at Sam’s elbow.

“That’s your innocent soul, Sam.”

“Hardly. You ought to know better, Bobby Singer. Once your girl’s eyes go black, you can’t bring her back. You gotta kill her. A couple times, in some cases.” While mostly his head was reeling from hearing such cruelties come out of the blonde’s mouth, Sam marveled at the information Jess had.

 Bobby spoke, “I’m a heavenly being, idjit. I know Jess is still in there. Sam’s Jess. And don’t try to rile me up about my wife; I left her baking a pie. You know what pie in heaven tastes like? Heaven.” He turned his body to Sam, briefly looking over his shoulder. “Now don’t go getting pissy that I’m about to block this conversation from your precious little ears.”

“Party tricks, really, I can’t‒”  
But whatever the demonic version of Jessica Moore couldn’t do, Sam was unable to hear. Bobby had somehow put up some sort of screen. “Bobby, did you get upgraded to some sort of like, angel? Because‒”

“Don’t be stupid. I told you, I’m here on a day-pass from the big man and he has a vested interest in you and your brother not screwing these trials up. He gave me some extra mojo since you only get one shot at this.”

“Is…she really the safest bet then? She’s not wrong about the fact that she’s a demon. She’s been down here a long time if she’s been down here since that night.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. She’s here but she wasn’t supposed to be. She’s a demon now but when she gets topside it’ll get burned out of her. She didn’t make a deal and get dragged here and she didn’t do anything to deserve it; she was a total innocent. The demon they’ve made out of her isn’t strong enough to hold up to that anywhere other than hell. Just get her to earth. Things will work out from there.”

“Seriously, I’m just supposed to trust that things will work out from there?” Sam was incredulous. “When have things ever just worked out for us?”

“Your other option is to leave her down here and keep searching your memories for an innocent. Do you want to leave her down here?”

“No, Bobby, I really don’t, but if I can’t save her, I’m not gonna‒”

“You’re not gonna what, Sam? You think I’ll gut you the way Brady did me as soon as I can and you’re not gonna let me? I don’t think you’ll stop me. Because it’s still me in here, really. Uncle Bobby’s not wrong about that.  I mean, I remember being human. I remember you. Vividly. I remember‒”

“Do it, boy. I gotta get. You gotta do this on your own. Try not to make it so obvious that you and that damn brother of yours need me from now on, alright?” And with a last clap on Sam’s shoulder, Bobby was gone. He was alone in hell with the demonic spirit of the girl he’d planned to marry at one point and he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt worse. 

“Alone, finally. So, what‒”

“Do you want out of here? Do you want out of hell?” Sam interrupted. He was cursing the fact that the soul who followed him could talk now. He was fairly positive that Jess would have nothing pleasant to say the whole way back.

“Yes,” she said. There was no mocking in the answer and no sarcasm, just plain truth.

“Then follow me.”

“Am I the long lost Eurydice to your Orpheus, Sam? Because if I just have to walk silently and follow you‒ not that the view isn’t just as nice, if not nicer than it was when I was alive and regularly got to see you naked‒ it’s gonna be awfully boring. I think I have quite a bit to say to you after all this time.”

Sam just stared at her for a moment before responding. He could still recognize parts of his Jess in this black-eyed blond; she was still just as smart and just as demanding, but she was no longer tempered by sweetness.

“You got one chance to get out of here so just follow me and don’t make me turn back.” With that, Sam turned his back on Jess and began to walk.

“You seem awfully concerned about this, Sam. This can’t really be just because you want to save poor Jessica Lee Moore. I mean, I’ve been dead eight years, surely you’ve half forgotten about me.”

Sam knew she was saying it just to mess with him, but the idea that he didn’t wake up some days and miss Jess and that life still hurt. It wasn’t a constant ache the way it had been that first year chasing John and it wasn’t the need for revenge that had driven him when going after Azazel, but there were times. Sun would bounce off someone’s blonde hair or he’d see a girl tapping her pen against a notebook the way Jess had during their study sessions or even Dean’s eyes would light up in a way that reminded him of hers sometimes and it would take him back. He’d been happy there in Stanford with Jess at his side and a goal in mind and he missed that simplicity, intimately tied to his love of Jess.

“Or maybe it’s guilt. Not love. Just guilt that you got me killed. You know that right?” She paused, knowing that Sam wouldn’t respond, simply to let the words stick in his mind. “I learned so much more about you down here than I ever did when we were together. I’d ask if you ever told me the truth about who you were‒ what you are‒ but I know you can’t answer. I bet you wouldn’t either.”

As terrible as the revelations Jess was giving him were, they kept his mind on her and not on the memories he was passing through. Getting the shit kicked out of you as a ten year old at a new school was bad but it’d be worse if he had to listen to a demon comment on it specifically, so maybe listening to the litany of reasons he’d failed Jess was better. At least it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already told himself a hundred times.

“That weekend we went camping and you told the best ghost stories out of any of us, I didn’t realize that they weren’t just stories. And you know what I remember thinking at the time? That the men you made out to be heroes were monsters too.”

And Sam remembered that trip. He remembered telling a story about his first hunt, a run of the mill salt and burn of the ghost of a suicidal girl, and after that the time the three of them had tracked a werewolf across two states and after being begged to tell a third one he’d told of the coven of witches he and Dean had taken out the weekend before he’d gone to Stanford‒ what he’d thought would be his last hunt. For him, they’d been stories that were scary‒ terrifying to live through at age 14‒ but that was his normal. He didn’t think anything of the monsters he’d chosen to depict.

“But you actually did those things. You and your brother really killed those four women when they were getting revenge on men who’d cheated on them. You’d really slit a woman’s throat before you were nineteen, Sam Winchester. I’d had no idea that I was one of those women who falls in love with a serial killer. Because you can tell yourself whatever you want about noble intentions and saving people, but you’re a killer.”

With those words in his mind, Sam took another step and his memory changed. It was the one of the nurse he’d bled dry before going after Lilith, the one he’d deliberately run through on the way to find Jess. The woman was still screaming. And Jess chose to notice in that moment.

“See?”

Sam just gritted his teeth and kept walking. Of course, it was into another terrible moment in his life and for some reason they seemed to be going in some sort of order now because he was in the convent at Ilchester. Lilith lay dead on the ground and Ruby’s voice echoed in his mind. Not seeing her was almost worse.

“You know, when I first got here I was convinced that there was someway you’d be able to save me. Because Brady, he didn’t just gut me right away, he stuck me up there and told me that you’d know exactly what had happened. I didn’t believe him until I realized I was in hell. Later someone, I don’t have any idea who, came to me and told me that you would save me. Not like I wanted, but because you were going to be here. You were going to be the boy king and that I’d be at your right hand if you still wanted me. That clearly never happened. So instead, I finally said yes. But then when I saw what you were doing, because someone likes me so much that they let me know exactly what you got up to with Ruby before you let your brother kill her. You ever realize every woman you love gets a knife to the stomach, Sam?”

She said it and some sort of sense memory made him feel the spasm of Ruby in his hands; he didn’t know if it was one of the moments that she’d climaxed underneath him or the moment she’d flamed out, pinned to him to be slaughtered. Thankfully he wasn’t still in the same memory. Instead he recognized the hallway of the hospital he’d almost lost his brother, the one he had lost his father in.

“Because you can’t tell me you didn’t love her a little bit.  But it gave me hope. You think that hell is this place without hope, but I saw you with her and part of me thought that maybe you’d forgive me and maybe even you’d convince the boss to let me be at his right hand even if you weren’t running the show. But you couldn’t even do that right, could you? You had to go and save the world like the martyr you always were dying to be. There was always the air of sacrificial lamb about you‒ you’d given up your family and none of us made up for it.”

Sam winced, grateful she couldn’t see his face. Stanford had been what he’d wanted but it hadn’t ever been easy. The number of times that he’d picked up his phone, hand hover over the call button with Dean’s name highlighted was so high he’d lost count by sophomore year. He’d see a game of pool going on with some leather jacketed frat boy in a bar and ache for missing his brother, thinking that Dean’d take the guy for his trust fund if he were there. He’d made his roommate skip “Ramble On” every time he played Zeppelin II in their room, not knowing that Dean couldn’t listen to “Going to California” on IV until he’d called him on Sam’s 21st birthday and drunkenly admitted it. He’d even missed John every time he saw a damn commercial for the marines. Had he seen a muscle car in the four years there he would have broken down, he was almost sure.  But he’d had no idea that it showed so openly.

“When Dean showed up that night at first I thought he was some ex-boyfriend of yours, you know. You looked at him like he’d once hung the stars for you. I didn’t know anyone could feel like that about their brother. I had cousins who looked up to their brothers, but they never were like that. I was actually kind of jealous. I mean, honestly, Sam, this tall, good looking, green eyed, light haired guy shows up in our apartment all charm and demand and all I could think was ‘this is why we’re together.’ I hadn’t realized I was competing with your older brother.”

Sam had never compared them. The only time he’d even thought of them in relation was on January 24th.

“We even had the same birthday. But you know what? In the back of my mind, I was kind of turned on by the idea. If you’d fallen for me as displaced feelings for your brother, maybe you’d ask him to join in. He was hot.”

Sam wanted to believe that that was all demon and no Jessica because, no. He’d gotten over feelings of jealousy towards his brother and girls when he’d left but if that wasn’t galling still, he didn’t know what would be. Not that he and Dean hadn’t had women proposition both of them‒ hell, Pamela had had a blast making him blush by doing so‒ but the idea that Jess would have said it bothered him. But of all the things he didn’t want to think about in hell, his brother was pretty much number one. Half of these memories had involved Dean. The number of times he’d had to watch his brother die was enough to fill up his hell. Of course, thinking that meant that the next step he took was into a memory of one of those times. That suburban house in New Harmony was the worst of the bunch; he’d felt like he was going crazy when Gabriel had killed his brother over and over, but nothing compared to watching Dean get clawed up to be brought to hell because he’d loved Sam too much to let him go. He could hear the hellhounds.

“You know I saw him down here. He wasn’t quite as hot without his skin and I’d wished that Alistair had let me at him for a while, but no dice. He let me watch though. He screamed like a girl. But the best part was, I knew you knew that that was your fault too. Because that has been the one thing sustaining me.”

Sam wasn’t even pretending not to want to run out of these memories now. Hell wasn’t making him hate what the world had done to him; it was making him hate himself. The demon wearing Jess wasn’t wrong. These things had been his fault.

“The only thing getting me through this pain was knowing that it wasn’t my own fault. No matter what I was going through, you‒ you who put me here by trying to escape your life when you weren’t meant to‒ would wake up some mornings with me on your mind and know that you got me killed. I’m so glad you get to know where I’ve been for the past eight years now, Sam.”

He took a chance and actually broke into a run. If Jess wanted out, and if she wanted to torture him more, she’d follow. He ran through the hospital room where Bobby’d breathed last, through the hotel room that Dean’d held a gun on him and told him he should’ve looked for him, through realizing Meg Masters was a real girl that they’d let get killed. His lungs felt like they were going to explode as he passed the panic room and the side of the road and a cold room in Detroit.

“You can’t run from the truth, Sam. Clichés are what they are for a reason,” Jess’ voice was in his ear. She was still following him and he put on a burst of speed despite his straining muscles. He could see the gates ahead of him shimmering through the wall of some truly tacky Catherine wheel wallpaper of some hotel.   

“And the truth is that I was dead and in hell the moment we met. This was where I was going to end up as soon as you flashed those dimples at me.”

God, how he wished he could say something to her. He wanted to shout that he knew. He knew it was his fault. That all of it was his fault. He hoped Bobby was right, that he wasn’t unleashing a demon onto the world  but that whatever hell had turned her into would lose its hold when she hit the ground. If not, he knew he’d have to kill her. What was worse is that he knew he wouldn’t hesitate. His hands were on the gate and he thrust his hands forward, wrenching the iron apart. He had no idea how long he’d been down there, if he’d have to wait for the reaper to be there or if he’d somehow missed him. Part of him thought that maybe he’d deserve it if he had and was stuck here. It was better than the cage at least. It was a fucked up life he lead that hell was a better option than some things he’d experienced.

“So now what? You left the gates, but you don’t have anywhere to go? Pretty poor performance, honey.”

Before she could continue in that same vein, there was a sort of ripple in the shadows cast by the gate.

“Are you kidding me with this?” Ajay asked as he stepped through the portal he’d just opened. He was staring at Jess. “You’re a Winchester‒ can’t you tell when a soul isn’t innocent? And where’s Bobby Singer?”

“You knew Bobby wasn’t here. I’m surprised you even came back, considering this was a ploy by Crowley,” Sam nearly growled. He took a step forward. “But I don’t care. I’m finishing this trial, so you get me and her out of here. Now.”

“That knife won’t kill me, you know,” Ajay said, eyeing the blade in Sam’s hand.

“Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt. Open the portal and put us back on earth, you son of a bitch.”

“Okay,” Ajay said, as though he were offended. That seemed pretty rich to Sam, but he didn’t care at this point. He’d had enough of this.

“You know I’m not gonna let you live once we get up there.”

Sam stepped through the portal and sent a silent prayer to the God that Bobby said was still around that this worked.

“Sammy‒” he was back. Ajay had vanished as soon as the portal closed and Dean was there, arms wrapping around him before his brother even got his bearings. “Sammy, is that…”

Sam knew it was safe to finally turn around and he did. Jess was still standing right where the portal had been. Her eyes flashed black and she started to laugh.

“I can’t believe you thought that‒” but she was choking.

“What the hell?” Dean’s grip on his shoulder tight.

“It was a lie, Dean. Bobby’s not in hell. He was my guide. He told me…” Sam couldn’t take his eyes off of Jess. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been the scene before him. She was doubled over in pain and when she looked up, there were tracks of blood from her eyes. Blood decorated her lips from her coughs as well and part of Sam was dying to rush over to her but Dean was holding him too firmly.

“Sam, help me. Please. Please, Sam it’s me. I’m sorry,” she was gasping. Sam’s hand found his brother’s and threw it off. “Please, Sam. I know…”

“Christo,” Dean said behind him. Sam was looking directly into Jess’ eyes as they stayed green. It’d been a long time since they used that trick but thank God one of them remembered.

“I’m sorry,” Jess was sobbing. She was crying blood still and Sam had no idea what to do from there. He was standing in front of her and reached a hand out. It was like hugging Bobby had been‒ half material, half cloud.

“Jess, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” she cried. Her pretty face was smeared in red and Sam could feel Dean’s pitying eyes on his back.

“Jess‒” he reached out again, but straightened up when someone else was in the clearing.

“It’s time to go, Jessica.” Sam stared, eyes wide.

“Tessa?” Dean voiced Sam’s incredulity.

“Who else were you two gonna trust?” the pretty reaper answered. “I’ll get her where she’s supposed to be.”

“Sam?”

“Go with her, Jess. I promise you’ll be safe.” Sam could feel his eyes starting to water. He’d kept it together in situations much worse than this‒ but between the journey to hell and what the first trial had done to him watching Jess leave again after all this time wasn’t easy.

“Sam, it’s not your fault.  It was never your fault,” Jess said when she turned around. Her hand was in Tessa’s and the dark haired woman was leading her away. But before Sam could say anything, she was gone. They both were.

“Sammy‒”

“I can’t talk about it, Dean. I just wanna finish this trial. Give me the spell.” Dean handed over the paper and Sam read the words and when they brought him to his knees, he couldn’t get up. It wasn’t until his brother joined him on the ground that he was able to lean on him and haul his own body up.

He wondered how much longer he’d be able to do that.


End file.
